At first I didn’t think he was magnificent. He was cheerfully oblivious of his unfortunate situation, he smelled bad, and from the moment we met he made it clear that he was in charge, unless he wanted me to think I was.
All smelly, arrogant 12 pounds of him crashed into my life a few days after Thanksgiving last year. I had just pulled out of my driveway, going to return a movie. It was dark. As I turned the corner, I glanced to the right and saw a puppy sitting against a garage door, spotlighted by a security light at the eave of the garage. We made eye contact and he ran straight toward the car. I stopped and got out to be sure he was okay and found him under my car. He came right to me, not as a wiggly little bundle as most 3 month old puppies would, but bold as brass on a dead run. I reached out to pick him up and that’s when the smell hit me. What on earth was that smell?!
I picked him up and went to the door of the house he’d come from. No one was home. There was nothing to do but take him with me and try again later to return him. I put him in the back of the SUV. Fortunately he was too little to jump over the seat and spread his love all over the interior of my new vehicle.
All the way to the store, he softly cried. I talked to him, but it did no good. He was going to tellme his story and there would be no consolation. I returned the movie, then went next door to the grocery store and bought a small bag of puppy food. Since it was just after Thanksgiving, I thought the puppy’s owners may be out of town (hey, it happens), or maybe he didn’t belong to that house, whatever. I wasn’t going to let the little guy go hungry while I figured out what to do with him.
As I turned the corner back into my neighborhood, I saw a car in the driveway of the puppy’s house. An odd feeling of relief and sadness came over me at the sight. I left him in the car and went to the door. The woman said the puppy belonged to her roommates and she didn’t think they wanted him anymore. She said he jumped on their toddler, nipped and bit everyone and had probably dug himself out from under the fence. I told her that I’d keep the puppy until she talked to her roommates. But, she insisted on taking him. I had her describe him before I’d give him back. Over the course of our short conversation I became very concerned about the little guy’s well-being. I made sure she knew where I lived (across the street, kitty-cornered from her house). To be sure she understood (or, probably that I felt heard), I repeated several times that I’d take the puppy if they no longer wanted it. Reluctantly, I handed over the smelly bundle and drove the 25 feet or so to my house.
I parked, got into the house, dropped the grocery bag with dog food and receipt by the back door to return the next day and went to wash my hands. While I was drying them, the doorbell rang. Wondering who’d be at my door at this time of night, I was stunned to see the neighbor with the puppy hanging under her arm and holding an empty, battered dog dish in the other. She cheerfully informed me that, yep, she was right, they didn’t want him. I took the dog and the dish from her and watched her walk back into the night.
I’ll always wonder if they’d have kept the puppy if I hadn’t bought dog food.
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